


Home Is A Key Word

by sal_si_puedes



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gift Fic, Light Angst, M/M, You're My Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9540782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: One day, quite out of the blue, Harvey gives Mike the key to his condo. Much later, when Mike really needs it, he decides to finally use it. :)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theangrylinguist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangrylinguist/gifts).



> Written as a Birthday gift for the lovely [Alex](http://theangrylinguist.tumblr.com/). Three cheers to the Birthday Princess!!!

Mike stares at the tiny object Harvey has pressed into his hand only moments earlier. He stares at it in utter bewilderment. It doesn’t look like much but it weighs more than anything.

“Are you coming in or what?” Harvey calls, already back in the living room, while the door in Mike’s back is still open and Mike’s hand is still clutching the handle.

He closes the door with a frown on his face and makes his way down the corridor slowly.

“Harvey?” he asks and Harvey looks up at him from where he’s sitting on the sofa, glass of scotch in his hands. “What is this?”

“What does it look like?” Harvey takes a sip from his drink and sits back, crossing his legs.

“A key, but—“

“It’s so that I don’t have to get up every goddamn time you knock on my door at some ungodly hour for some completely idiot reason,” Harvey says and Mike just nods. What else is there to do anyway?

*****

Mike knows that Donna has one and that Jessica sometimes borrows it. And now he has one, too.

So what he does is, he sneaks into Harvey’s condo sometimes when he knows Harvey isn’t home, when he knows Harvey has court or is in a meeting that takes long enough for Mike to be safe, and he looks around.

At first all he does is look around. He doesn’t touch anything, he doesn’t open any drawer or cupboard, all he does is walk through the rooms when the doors are open and let his eyes drink in everything he sees. 

He studies the backs of Harvey’s books as well as the labels of the bottles on the liquor cart and the addresses on the envelopes in that flat bowl Harvey keeps his mail in. 

He inhales, too, he inhales the scent everywhere he goes, flowers sometimes, soap, cologne, a faint hint of detergent, whispers of last night’s dinner, coffee and Harvey, underneath all of it – Harvey’s scent. 

It takes him a long time to start touching things, to open a book that’s lying on the coffee table, to pick up an empty glass to smell at it and to put it back exactly where it has been before, to run his fingers over the immaculate surface of the kitchen counter, to switch on the lights – and switch them off again.

The first time he opens the sliding door to Harvey’s closet his heart is beating out of his chest and he nearly passes out from holding his breath for so long.

It smells even more like Harvey in there and Mike closes his eyes as he walks along the racks with the shirts and the trousers and the vests and the jackets on them and his fingers brush over the different kinds of fabric with reverence. He doesn’t dare take a hanger off and he doesn’t try on any of the clothes, but he steps close and inhales as deeply as he can.

Over the weeks, he begins to sit down sometimes, on the sofa or in one of the arm chairs and when he’s feeling very courageous, he pulls out one of the chairs surrounding the dining table or one of the stools lining the kitchen counter.

It takes him months to sit down on the edge of Harvey’s bed for the very first time and even longer before he decides to lie back and spread his arms. 

Of course, he does all of that only in his mind, in his imagination. He would never do that to anyone, let alone to someone as private as Harvey.

And even when Harvey calls him one day and tells him to go get a file folder from his condo on his way to work, Mike takes a deep breath before he opens the door, walks to Harvey’s desk without even the slightest pause in his steps, picks up the folder and leaves again as quickly as he can.

*****

Whenever he comes to see Harvey while Harvey is at home, in the morning or at night, he always, always knocks. 

And Harvey always gets up to open the door for him and let him in.

Neither of them ever mentions the key, even though it is always there, always in Mike’s pocket, always within reach and always just a touch away.

Some days it is almost weightless and some days it’s so heavy that Mike is almost unable to move at all. Some days he touches it when nobody is watching and some days he almost forgets it is there. Almost.

*****

The second time he uses it is the day his marriage ends, maybe not de jure but de facto. He finds himself in front of Harvey’s building when his mind clears.

Harvey’s door man Raoul tells him that Harvey is not home yet and Mike nods and lets himself in.

He waits for Harvey in the darkness, but Harvey doesn’t appear to be the least bit startled or surprised to see him sitting there in his living room, his coat still on and his face buried in his hands.

“Mike,” Harvey says when he’s standing almost next to him, and Mike looks up.

“I don’t have a home anymore,” is all Mike says.

Harvey shakes his head.

“Yes, you do. You always had one. Even before I gave you this,” he gestures at the key lying on the coffee table in front of Mike. “I’m glad that you finally figured that out.”

Mike looks at the key and back at Harvey again. Then he picks the key up and weighs it in his palm. He closes his fingers around it, holding on to it as tightly as he can, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says, and the smallest of smiles begins to appear on his face. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [sal-si-puedes](http://sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, come and say "Hi!"!


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